REMEMBERING THE KANJI, VOL. I
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Remembering the Kana: A Guide to Reading and Writing the Japanese Syllabaries in 3
Hours Each. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2009 (1987)
Remembering the Kanji 2: A Systematic Guide to Reading Japanese Characters.
Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2012 (1987)
Remembering the Kanji 3: Writing and Reading Japanese Characters for Upper-Level
Proficiency. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2013 (1994).
Kana para recordar: Curso mnemotécnico para el aprendizaje de los silabarios japoneses
(with Marc Bernabé and Verònica Calafell). Barcelona: Herder Editorial, 2005 (2003)
Kanji para recordar I: Curso mnemotécnico para el aprendizaje de la escritura y el
significado de los caracteres japoneses (with Marc Bernabé and Verònica Calafell).
Barcelona: Herder Editorial, 2005 (2001)
Kanji para recordar II: Guía sistemática para la lectura de los caracteres japoneses (with
Marc Bernabé and Verònica Calafell). Barcelona: Herder Editorial, 2004
Die Kana lernen und behalten. Die japanische Silbenschrift lesen und schreiben in je drei
Stunden (with Klaus Gresbrand). Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann Verlag, 2013
(2006)
Die Kanji lernen und behalten 1. Bedeutung und Schreibweise der japanischen
Schriftzeichen (with Robert Rauther). Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann Verlag,
2009 (2005)
Die Kanji lernen und behalten 2. Systematische Anleitung zu den Lesungen der
japanischen Schriftzeichen (with Robert Rauther). Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio
Klostermann Verlag, 2006
Die Kanji lernen und behalten 3. Schriftzeichen für den fortgeschrittenen Gebrauch (with
Robert Rauther). Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann Verlag, 2013
Kana. Snel Japans leren lezen en schrijven (with Sarah Van Camp). Antwerpen: Garant,
2009
Kanji. Kurs skutecznego zapamiętywania znaków japońskich (with Marcin Sudara).
Poznań: Nowela, 2014
Kanji. Snel Japans leren schrijven en onthouden door de kracht van verbeelding (with
Sarah Van Camp). Antwerpen: Garant, 2010
Megjegyezhető kandzsik, Első kötet. A japán írásjegyek jelentése és írásmódja (with Rácz
Zoltán). Budapest: Shirokuma, 2011
Remembering the Kanji
vol. 1
A Complete Course on How Not to Forget
the Meaning and Writing
of Japanese Characters
James W. Heisig
University of Hawai‘i Press
HONOLULU
Copyright © 1977, 1985, 1986, 2001, 2007 by James W. Heisig
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions
thereof in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
Sixth edition: 3rdt printing, 2014
16 15 146 5 4
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Heisig, James W., 1944-
Remembering the kanji : a complete course on how not to forget the meaning and writing of
Japanese characters / James W. Heisig. — 6th ed.
p. cm.
Includes indexes.
ISBN 978-0-8248-3592-7 (pbk. : alk. paper)
1. Japanese language—Orthography and spelling. 2. Chinese characters—Japan—
Textbooks. 3. Japanese language—Textbooks for foreign speakers—English. I. Title.
PL547.H4 2001
495.6’82421—dc22
2010049981
The electronic version of this book was prepared at the Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture,
Nagoya, Japan.
Contents
Contents
Introduction
PART ONE: Stories Lessons 1–12
PART TWO: Plots Lessons 13–19
PART THREE: Elements Lessons 20–56
Indexes
Index 1 Primitive Elements
Index 2 Kanji in Stroke Order
Index 3 Key Words & Primitive Meanings
Introduction
The aim of this book is to provide the student of Japanese with a simple method for
correlating the writing and the meaning of Japanese characters in such a way as to make
them both easy to remember. It is intended not only for the beginner, but also for the more
advanced student looking for some relief to the constant frustration of forgetting how to
write the kanji and some way to systematize what he or she already knows. By showing
how to break down the complexities of the Japanese writing system into its basic elements
and suggesting ways to reconstruct meanings from those elements, the method offers a
new perspective from which to learn the kanji.
There are, of course, many things that the pages of this book will not do for you. You
will read nothing about how kanji combine to form compounds. Nor is anything said about
the various ways to pronounce the characters. Furthermore, all questions of grammatical
usage have been omitted. These are all matters that need specialized treatment in their own
right. Meantime, remembering the meaning and the writing of the kanji—perhaps the
single most difficult barrier to learning Japanese—can be greatly simplified if the two are
isolated and studied apart from everything else.
FORGETTING KANJI, REMEMBERING KANJI
What makes forgetting the kanji so natural is their lack of connection with normal patterns
of visual memory. We are used to hills and roads, to the faces of people and the skylines of
cities, to flowers, animals, and the phenomena of nature. And while only a fraction of
what we see is readily recalled, we are confident that, given proper attention, anything we
choose to remember, we can. That confidence is lacking in the world of the kanji. The
closest approximation to the kind of memory patterns required by the kanji is to be seen in
the various alphabets and number-systems we know. The difference is that while these
symbols are very few and often sound-related, the kanji number in the thousands and have
no consistent phonetic value. Nonetheless, traditional methods for learning the characters
have been the same as those for learning alphabets: drill the shapes one by one, again and
again, year after year. Whatever ascetic value there is in such an exercise, the more
efficient way would be to relate the characters to something other than their sounds in the
first place, and so to break ties with the visual memory we rely on for learning our
alphabets.
The origins of the Japanese writing system can be traced back to ancient China and the
eighteenth century before the Christian era. In the form in which we find Chinese writing
codified some 1,000 years later, it was made up largely of pictographic, detailed glyphs.
These were further transformed and stylized down through the centuries, so that by the
time the Japanese were introduced to the kanji by Buddhist monks from Korea and started
experimenting with ways to adapt the Chinese writing system to their own language
(about the fourth to seventh centuries of our era), they were already dealing with far more
ideographic and abstract forms. The Japanese made their own contributions and changes
in time, as was to be expected. And like every modern Oriental culture that uses the kanji,
they continue to do so, though now more in matters of usage than form.
So fascinating is this story that many recommend studying etymology as a way to
remember the kanji. Alas, the student quickly learns the many disadvantages of such an
approach. As charming as it is to see the ancient drawing of a woman etched behind its
respective kanji, or to discover the rudimentary form of a hand or a tree or a house, when
the character itself is removed, the clear visual memory of the familiar object is precious
little help for recalling how to write it. Proper etymological studies are most helpful after
one has learned the general-use kanji. Before that, they only add to one’s memory
problems. We need a still more radical departure from visual memory.
Let me paint the impasse in another, more graphic, way. Picture yourself holding a
kaleidoscope up to the light as still as possible, trying to fix in memory the particular
pattern that the play of light and mirrors and colored stones has created. Chances are you
have such an untrained memory for such things that it will take some time; but let us
suppose that you succeed after ten or fifteen minutes. You close your eyes, trace the
pattern in your head, and then check your image against the original pattern until you are
sure you have it remembered. Then someone passes by and jars your elbow. The pattern is
lost, and in its place a new jumble appears. Immediately your memory begins to scramble.
You set the kaleidoscope aside, sit down, and try to draw what you had just memorized,
but to no avail. There is simply nothing left in memory to grab hold of. The kanji are like
that. One can sit at one’s desk and drill a half dozen characters for an hour or two, only to
discover on the morrow that when something similar is seen, the former memory is erased
or hopelessly confused by the new information.
Now the odd thing is not that this occurs, but rather that, instead of openly admitting
one’s distrust of purely visual memory, one accuses oneself of a poor memory or lack of
discipline and keeps on following the same routine. Thus, by placing the blame on a poor
visual memory, one overlooks the possibility of another form of memory that could handle
the task with relative ease: imaginative memory.
By imaginative memory I mean the faculty to recall images created purely in the mind,
with no actual or remembered visual stimuli behind them. When we recall our dreams we
are using imaginative memory. The fact that we sometimes conflate what happened in
waking life with what occurred merely in a dream is an indication of how powerful those
imaginative stimuli can be. While dreams may be broken up into familiar component
parts, the composite whole is fantastical and yet capable of exerting the same force on
perceptual memory as an external stimulus. It is possible to use imagination in this way
also in a waking state and harness its powers for assisting a visual memory admittedly ill-
adapted for remembering the kanji.
In other words, if we could discover a limited number of basic elements in the
characters and make a kind of alphabet out of them, assigning each its own image, fusing
them together to form other images, and so building up complex tableaux in imagination,
the impasse created by purely visual memory might be overcome. Such an imaginative
alphabet would be every bit as rigorous as a phonetic one in restricting each basic element
to one basic value; but its grammar would lack many of the controls of ordinary language
and logic. It would be a kind of dream-world where anything at all might happen, and
happen differently in each mind. Visual memory would be used minimally, to build up the
alphabet. After that, one would be set loose to roam freely inside the magic lantern of
imaginative patterns according to one’s own preferences.
In fact, most students of the Japanese writing system do something similar from time
to time, devising their own mnemonic aids but never developing an organized approach to
their use. At the same time, most of them would be embarrassed at the academic silliness
of their own secret devices, feeling somehow that there is no way to refine the ridiculous
ways their mind works. Yet if it does work, then some such irreverence for scholarship and
tradition seems very much in place. Indeed, shifting attention from why one forgets certain
kanji to why one remembers others should offer motivation enough to undertake a more
thorough attempt to systematize imaginative memory.
THE STRUCTURE OF THIS BOOK
The basic alphabet of the imaginative world hidden in the kanji we may call, following
traditional terminology, primitive elements (or simply primitives). These are not to be
confused with the so-called “radicals” which form the basis of etymological studies of
sound and meaning, and now are used for the lexical ordering of the characters. In fact,
most of the radicals are themselves primitives, but the number of primitives is not
restricted to the traditional list of radicals.
The primitives, then, are the fundamental strokes and combinations of strokes from
which all the characters are built up. Calligraphically speaking, there are only nine
possible kinds of strokes in theory, seventeen in practice. A few of these will be given
primitive meanings; that is, they will serve as fundamental images. Simple combinations
will yield new primitive meanings in turn, and so on as complex characters are built up. If
these primitives are presented in orderly fashion, the taxonomy of the most complex
characters is greatly simplified and no attempt need be made to memorize the primitive
alphabet apart from actually using it.
The number of primitives, as we are understanding the term, is a moot question.
Traditional etymology counts some 224 of them. We shall draw upon these freely, and also
ground our primitive meanings in traditional etymological meanings, without making any
particular note of the fact as we proceed. We shall also be departing from etymology to
avoid the confusion caused by the great number of similar meanings for differently shaped
primitives. Wherever possible, then, the generic meaning of the primitives will be
preserved, although there are cases in which we shall have to specify that meaning in a
different way, or ignore it altogether, so as to root imaginative memory in familiar visual
memories. Should the student later turn to etymological studies, the procedure we have
followed will become more transparent, and should not cause any obstacles to the learning
of etymologies. The list of elements that we have singled out as primitives proper (Index
I) is restricted to the following four classes: basic elements that are not kanji, kanji that
appear as basic elements in other kanji with great frequency, kanji that change their
meaning when they function as parts of other kanji, and kanji that change their shape
when forming parts of other kanji. Any kanji that keeps both its form and its meaning and
appears as part of another kanji functions as a primitive, whether or not it occurs with
enough frequency to draw attention to it as such.
The 2,200 characters chosen for study in these pages (arranged according to the
number of strokes in Index II) include the basic 1,945 general-use kanji established as
standard by the Japanese Ministry of Education in 1981, another 60 or so used chiefly in
proper names, and a handful of characters that are convenient for use as primitive
elements. In 2010 another 196 kanji were added to the list of kanji approved for general
use, 39 of which had already been incorporated into earlier editions of this book.
Each kanji is assigned a key word that represents its basic meaning, or one of its basic
meanings. The key words have been selected on the basis of how a given kanji is used in
compounds and on the meaning it has on its own. (A total of 190 of the kanji that appear
in this book are used commonly in family and personal names, and some of them have no
other use in standard Japanese. Nevertheless, each of them has been assigned its own key
word.) There is no repetition of key words, although many are nearly synonymous. In
these cases, it is important to focus on the particular flavor that that word enjoys in
English, so as to evoke connotations distinct from similar key words. To be sure, many of
the characters carry a side range of connotations not present in their English equivalents,
and vice versa; many even carry several ideas not able to be captured in a single English
word. By simplifying the meanings through the use of key words, however, one becomes
familiar with a kanji and at least one of its principal meanings. The others can be added
later with relative ease, in much the same way as one enriches one’s understanding of
one’s native tongue by learning the full range of feelings and meanings embraced by
words already known.
Given the primitive meanings and the key word relevant to a particular kanji
(cataloged in Index III), the task is to create a composite ideogram. Here is where fantasy
and memory come into play. The aim is to shock the mind’s eye, to disgust it, to enchant
it, to tease it, or to entertain it in any way possible so as to brand it with an image
intimately associated with the key word. That image, in turn, inasmuch as it is composed
of primitive meanings, will dictate precisely how the kanji is to be penned—stroke for
stroke, jot for jot. Many characters, perhaps the majority of them, can be so remembered
on a first encounter, provided sufficient time is taken to fix the image. Others will need to
be reviewed by focusing on the association of key word and primitive elements. In this
way, mere drill of visual memory is all but entirely eliminated.
Since the goal is not simply to remember a certain number of kanji, but also to learn
how to remember them (and others not included in this book), the course has been divided
into three parts. Part One provides the full associative story for each character. By
directing the reader’s attention, at least for the length of time it takes to read the
explanation and relate it to the written form of the kanji, most of the work is done for the
student, even as a feeling for the method is acquired. In Part Two, only the skeletal plots
of the stories are presented, and the individual must work out his or her own details by
drawing on personal memory and fantasy. Part Three, which comprises the major portion
of the course, provides only the key word and the primitive meanings, leaving the
remainder of the process to the student.
It will soon become apparent that the most critical factor is the order of learning the
kanji. The actual method is simplicity itself. Once more basic characters have been
learned, their use as primitive elements for other kanji can save a great deal of effort and
enable one to review known characters at the same time as one is learning new ones.
Hence, to approach this course haphazardly, jumping ahead to the later lessons before
studying the earlier ones, will entail a considerable loss of efficiency. If one’s goal is to
learn to write the entire list of general-use characters, then it seems best to learn them in
the order best suited to memory, not in order of frequency or according to the order in
which they are taught to Japanese children. Should the individual decide to pursue some
other course, however, the indexes should provide all the basic information for finding the
appropriate frame and the primitives referred to in that frame.
It may surprise the reader casually leafing through these pages not to find a single
drawing or pictographic representation. This is fully consistent with what was said earlier
about placing the stress on imaginative memory. For one thing, pictographs are an
unreliable way to remember all but very few kanji; and even in these cases, the pictograph
should be discovered by the student by toying with the forms, pen in hand, rather than
given in one of its historical graphic forms. For another, the presentation of an image
actually inhibits imagination and restricts it to the biases of the artist. This is as true for the
illustrations in a child’s collection of fairy tales as it is for the various phenomena we shall
encounter in the course of this book. The more original work the individual does with an
image, the easier will it be to remember a kanji.
ADMONITIONS
Before setting out on the course plotted in the following pages, attention should be drawn
to a few final points. In the first place, one must be warned about setting out too quickly. It
should not be assumed that, because the first characters are so elementary, they can be
skipped over hastily. The method presented here needs to be learned step by step, lest one
find oneself forced later to retreat to the first stages and start over; 20 or 25 characters per
day would not be excessive for someone who has only a couple of hours to give to study.
If one were to study them full-time, there is no reason why the entire course could not be
completed successfully in four to six weeks. By the time Part One has been traversed, the
student should have discovered a rate of progress suitable to the time available.
Second, repeated instruction to study the characters with pad and pencil should be
taken seriously. Remembering the characters demands that they be written, and there is
really no better way to improve the aesthetic appearance of one’s writing and acquire a
“natural feel” for the flow of the kanji than by writing them. The method may spare one
from having to write the same character over and over in order to learn it, but it does not
give one the fluency at writing that comes only with constant practice. If pen and paper are
inconvenient, one can always make do with the palm of the hand, as the Japanese do. It
provides a convenient square space for jotting on with one’s index finger when riding in a
bus or walking down the street.
Third, the kanji are best reviewed by beginning with the key word, progressing to the
respective story, and then writing the character itself. Once one has been able to perform
these steps, reversing the order follows as a matter of course. More will be said about this
later in the book.
In the fourth place, it is important to note that the best order for learning the kanji is by
no means the best order for remembering them. They need to be recalled when and where
they are met, not in the sequence in which they are presented here. An iPad app called
“Remembering the Kanji” has been designed especially for the purpose.
Finally, it seems worthwhile to give some brief thought to any ambitions one might
have about “mastering” the Japanese writing system. The idea arises from, or at least is
supported by, a certain bias about learning that comes from overexposure to schooling: the
notion that language is a cluster of skills that can be rationally divided, systematically
learned, and certified by testing. The kanji, together with the wider structure of Japanese
—and indeed of any language for that matter—resolutely refuse to be mastered in this
fashion. The rational order brought to the kanji in this book is only intended as an aid to
get you close enough to the characters to befriend them, let them surprise you, inspire you,
enlighten you, resist you, and seduce you. But they cannot be mastered without a full
understanding of their long and complex history and an insight into the secret of their
unpredictable vitality—all of which is far too much for a single mind to bring to the tip of
a single pen.
That having been said, the goal of this book is still to attain native proficiency in
writing the Japanese characters and associating their meanings with their forms. If the
logical systematization and the playful irreverence contained in the pages that follow can
help spare even a few of those who pick the book up the grave error of deciding to pursue
their study of the Japanese language without aspiring to such proficiency, the efforts that
went into it will have more than received their reward.
SELF-STUDY AND CLASSROOM STUDY
As this book went through one reprint after the other, I was often tempted to rethink many
of the key words and primitive meaning. After careful consideration and review of the
hundred of letters I received from students all over the world, and in the light of the many
adjustments required for versions in other languages, I decided to let it stand with only
minor alterations. There are, however, two related questions that come up with enough
frequency to merit further comment at the outset: the use of this book in connection with
formal courses of Japanese, and the matter of pronunciation or “readings” of the kanji.
The reader will not have to finish more than a few lessons to realize that this book was
designed for self-learning. What may not be so apparent is that using it to supplement the
study of kanji in the classroom or to review for examinations has an adverse influence on
the learning process. The more you try to combine the study of the written kanji through
the method outlined in these pages with traditional study of the kanji, the less good this
book will do you. I know of no exceptions.
Virtually all teachers of Japanese, native and foreign, would agree with me that
learning to write the kanji with native proficiency is the greatest single obstacle to the
foreign adult approaching Japanese—indeed so great as to be presumed insurmountable.
After all, if even well-educated Japanese study the characters formally for nine years, use
them daily, and yet frequently have trouble remembering how to reproduce them, much
more than English-speaking people have with the infamous spelling of their mother
tongue, is it not unrealistic to expect that even with the best of intentions and study
methods those not raised with the kanji from their youth should manage the feat? Such an
attitude may never actually be spoken openly by a teacher standing before a class, but as
long as the teacher believes it, it readily becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. This attitude is
then transmitted to the student by placing greater emphasis on the supposedly simpler and
more reasonable skills of learning to speak and read the language. In fact, as this book
seeks to demonstrate, nothing could be further from the truth.
To begin with, the writing of the kanji is the most completely rational part of the
language. Over the centuries, the writing of the kanji has been simplified many times,
always with rational principles in mind. Aside from the Korean hangul, there may be no
writing system in the world as logically structured as the Sino-Japanese characters are.
The problem is that the usefulness of this inner logic has not found its way into learning
the kanji. On the contrary, it has been systematically ignored. Those who have passed
through the Japanese school system tend to draw on their own experience when they teach
others how to write. Having begun as small children in whom the powers of abstraction
are relatively undeveloped and for whom constant repetition is the only workable method,
they are not likely ever to have considered reorganizing their pedagogy to take advantage
of the older student’s facility with generalized principles.
So great is this neglect that I would have to say that I have never met a Japanese
teacher who can claim to have taught a foreign adult to write the basic general-use kanji
that all high-school graduates in Japan know. Never. Nor have I ever met a foreign adult
who would claim to have learned to write at this level from a native Japanese teacher. I see
no reason to assume that the Japanese are better suited to teach writing because it is, after
all, their language. Given the rational nature of the kanji, precisely the opposite is the case:
the Japanese teacher is an impediment to learning to associate the meanings of the kanji
with their written form. The obvious victim of the conventional methods is the student, but
on a subtler level the reconfirmation of unquestioned biases also victimizes the Japanese
teachers themselves, the most devoted of whom are prematurely denied the dream of fully
internationalizing their language.
There are additional problems with using this book in connection with classroom
study. For one thing, as explained earlier in the Introduction, the efficiency of the study of
the kanji is directly related to the order in which they are learned. Formal courses
introduce kanji according to different principles that have nothing to do with the writing.
More often than not, the order in which Japan’s Ministry of Education has determined
children should learn the kanji from primary through middle school, is the main guide.
Obviously, learning the writing is far more important than being certified to have passed
some course or other. And just as obviously, one needs to know all the general-use kanji
for them to be of any use for the literate adult. When it comes to reading basic materials,
such as newspapers, it is little consolation to know half or even three-quarters of them.
The crucial question for pedagogy, therefore, is not what is the best way to qualify at some
intermediate level of proficiency, but simply how to learn all the kanji in the most efficient
and reliable manner possible. For this, the traditional “levels” of kanji proficiency are
simply irrelevant. The answer, I am convinced, lies in self-study, following an order based
on learning all the kanji.
I do not myself know of any teacher of Japanese who has attempted to use this book in
a classroom setting. My suspicion is that they would soon abandon the idea. The book is
based on the idea that the writing of the kanji can be learned on its own and independently
of any other aspect of the language. It is also based on the idea that the pace of study is
different from one individual to another, and for each individual, from one week to the
next. Organizing study to the routines of group instruction runs counter to those ideas.
This brings us to our second question. The reasons for isolating the writing of the kanji
from their pronunciation follow more or less as a matter of course from what has been
said. The reading and writing of the characters are taught simultaneously on the grounds
that one is useless without the other. This only begs the basic question of why they could
not better, and more quickly, be taught one after the other, concentrating on what is for the
foreigner the simpler task, writing, and later turning to the more complicated, the reading.
One has only to look at the progress of non-Japanese raised with kanji to see the logic
of the approach. When Chinese adult students come to the study of Japanese, they already
know what the kanji mean and how to write them. They have only to learn how to read
them. The progress they make in comparison with their Western counterparts is usually
attributed to their being “Oriental.” In fact, Chinese grammar and pronunciation have
about as much to do with Japanese as English does. It is their knowledge of the meaning
and writing of the kanji that gives the Chinese the decisive edge. My idea was simply to
learn from this common experience and give the kanji an English reading. Having learned
to write the kanji in this way—which, I repeat, is the most logical and rational part of the
study of Japanese—one is in a much better position to concentrate on the often irrational
and unprincipled problem of learning to pronounce them.
In a word, it is hard to imagine a less efficient way of learning the reading and writing
of the kanji than to study them simultaneously. And yet this is the method that all Japanese
textbooks and courses follow. The bias is too deeply ingrained to be rooted out by
anything but experience to the contrary.
Many of these ideas and impressions, let it be said, only developed after I had myself
learned the kanji and published the first edition of this book. At the time I was convinced
that proficiency in writing the kanji could be attained in four to six weeks if one were to
make a full-time job of it. Of course, the claim raised more eyebrows than hopes among
teachers with far more experience than I had. Still, my own experience with studying the
kanji and the relatively small number of individuals I have directed in the methods of this
book, bears that estimate out, and I do not hesitate to repeat it here.
THE STORY BEHIND THIS BOOK
A word about how the book came to be written. I began my study of the kanji one month
after coming to Japan with absolutely no previous knowledge of the language. Because
travels through Asia had delayed my arrival by several weeks, I took up residence at a
language school in Kamakura and began studying on my own without enrolling in the
course already in progress. A certain impatience with my own ignorance compared to
everyone around me, coupled with the freedom to devote myself exclusively to language
studies, helped me during those first four weeks to make my way through a basic
introductory grammar. This provided a general idea of how the language was constructed
but, of course, almost no facility in using any of it.
Through conversations with the teachers and other students, I quickly picked up the
impression that I had best begin learning the kanji as soon as possible, since this was sure
to be the greatest chore of all. Having no idea at all how the kanji “worked” in the
language, yet having found my own pace, I decided—against the advice of nearly
everyone around me—to continue to study on my own rather than join one of the
beginners’ classes.
The first few days I spent poring over whatever I could find on the history and
etymology of the Japanese characters, and examining the wide variety of systems on the
market for studying them. It was during those days that the basic idea underlying the
method of this book came to me. The following weeks I devoted myself day and night to
experimenting with the idea, which worked well enough to encourage me to carry on with
it. Before the month was out I had learned the meaning and writing of some 1,900
characters and had satisfied myself that I would retain what I had memorized. It was not
long before I became aware that something extraordinary had taken place.
For myself, the method I was following seemed so simple, even childish, that it was
almost an embarrassment to talk about it. And it had happened as such a matter of course
that I was quite unprepared for the reaction it caused. On the one hand, some at the school
accused me of having a short-term photographic memory that would fade with time. On
the other hand, there were those who pressed me to write up my “methods” for their
benefit. But it seemed to me that there was too much left to learn of the language for me to
get distracted by either side. Within a week, however, I was persuaded at least to let my
notes circulate. Since most everything was either in my head or jotted illegibly in
notebooks and on flash cards, I decided to give an hour each day to writing everything up
systematically. One hour soon became two, then three, and in no time at all I had laid
everything else aside to complete the task. By the end of that third month I brought a
camera-ready copy to Nanzan University in Nagoya for printing. During the two months it
took to prepare it for printing I added an Introduction.
Through the kind help of Mrs. Iwamoto Keiko of Tuttle Publishing Company, most of
the 500 copies were distributed in Tokyo bookstores, where they sold out within a few
months. After the month I spent studying how to write the kanji, I did not return to any
formal review of what I had learned. (I was busy trying to devise another method for
simplifying the study of the reading of the characters, which was later completed and
published as a companion volume to this one.) When I would meet a new character, I
would learn it as I had the others, but I have never felt the need to retrace my steps or
repeat any of the work. Admittedly, the fact that I now use the kanji daily in my teaching,
research, and writing is a distinct advantage. But I remain convinced that whatever facility
I have I owe to the procedures outlined in this book.
Perhaps only one who has seen the method through to the end can appreciate both how
truly uncomplicated and obvious it is, and how accessible to any average student willing
to invest the time and effort. For while the method is simple and does eliminate a great
deal of wasted effort, the task is still not an easy one. It requires as much stamina,
concentration, and imagination as one can bring to it.
PART ONE
Stories
Lesson 1
Let us begin with a group of 15 kanji, all of which you probably knew before you ever
cracked the covers of this book. Each kanji has been provided with a single key word to
represent the basic meaning. Some of these characters will also serve later as primitive
elements to help form other kanji, when they will take a meaning different from the
meaning they have as kanji. Although it is not necessary at this stage to memorize the
special primitive meaning of these characters, a special remark preceded by a star (*) has
been appended to alert you to the change in meaning.
The number of strokes of each character is given in square brackets at the end of each
explanation, followed by the stroke-by-stroke order of writing. It cannot be stressed
enough how important it is to learn to write each kanji in its proper order. As easy as these
first characters may seem, study them all with a pad and pencil to get into the habit from
the very start.
Finally, note that each key word has been carefully chosen and should not be tampered
with in any way if you want to avoid confusion later on.
1 one
⼀ In Chinese characters, the number one is laid on its side, unlike the Roman numeral I which stands upright. As you
would expect, it is written from left to right. [1]
一
As a primitive element, the key-word meaning is discarded, since it is too abstract to be of much help. Instead,
the single horizontal stroke takes on the meaning of floor or ceiling, depending on its position: if it stands above
another primitive, it means ceiling; if below, floor.
2 two
⼆ Like the Roman numeral II, which reduplicates the numeral I, the kanji for two is a simple reduplication of the
horizontal stroke that means one. The order of writing goes from above to below, with the first stroke slightly shorter.
[2]
丁七
3 three
三 And like the Roman numeral III, which triples the numeral I, the kanji for three simply triples the single horizontal
stroke. In writing it, think of “1 + 2 = 3” (⼀ + ⼆ = 三) in order to keep the middle stroke shorter. [3]
万丈三
4 four
四 This kanji is composed of two primitive elements, mouth ⼝ and human legs ⼉, both of which we will meet in the
coming lessons. Assuming that you already knew how to write this kanji, we will pass over the “story” connected with
it until later.
Note how the second stroke is written left-to-right and then top-to-bottom. This is consistent with what we have
already seen in the first three numbers and leads us to a general principle that will be helpful when we come to more
complicated kanji later on: WRITE NORTH-TO-SOUTH, WEST-TO-EAST, NORTHWEST-TO-SOUTHEAST. [5]
上下不与丐
5 five
五 As with four, we shall postpone learning the primitive elements that make up this character. Note how the general
principle we just learned in the preceding frame applies to the writing of the character for five. [4]
丑且丕世
6 six
六 The primitives here are top hat and animal legs. Once again, we glide over them until later. [4]
丗丘丙丞
7 seven
七 As with four, we shall postpone learning the primitive elements that make up this character. Note how the general
principle we just learned in the preceding frame applies to the writing of the character for five. [4]
Note that the first stroke “cuts” through the second. This distinguishes seven from the character for spoon ⼔ (FRAME
476), in which the horizontal stroke stops short. [2]
両並
As a primitive, this form takes on the meaning of diced, i.e., “cut” into little pieces, consistent both with the way
the character is written and with its association with the kanji for cut 切 to be learned in a later lesson (FRAME
89).
8 eight
⼋ Just as the Arabic numeral “8” is composed of a small circle followed by a larger one, so the kanji for eight is
composed of a short line followed by a longer line, slanting towards it but not touching it. And just as the “lazy 8” ∞ is
the mathematical symbol for “infinity,” so the expanse opened up below these two strokes is associated by the Japanese
with the sense of an infinite expanse or something “all-encompassing.” [2]
丨个
9 nine
九 If you take care to remember the stroke order of this kanji, you will not have trouble later keeping it distinct from the
kanji for power ⼒ (FRAME 922). [2]
中丱
As a primitive, we shall use this kanji to mean baseball team or simply baseball. The meaning, of course, is
derived from the nine players who make up a team.
10 ten
⼗ Turn this character 45º either way and you have the X used for the Roman numeral ten. [2]
串丶
As a primitive, this character sometimes keeps its meaning of ten and sometimes signifies needle, this latter
derived from the kanji for needle 針 (FRAME 292). Since the primitive is used in the kanji itself, there is no need
to worry about confusing the two. In fact, we shall be following this procedure regularly.
11 mouth
⼝ Like several of the first characters we shall learn, the kanji for mouth is a clear pictograph. Since there are no circular
shapes in the kanji, the square must be used to depict the circle. [3]
丸丹主
As a primitive, this form also means mouth. Any of the range of possible images that the word suggests—an
opening or entrance to a cave, a river, a bottle, or even the largest hole in your head—can be used for the
primitive meaning.
12 day
⽇ This kanji is intended to be a pictograph of the sun. Recalling what we said in the previous frame about round forms, it
is easy to detect the circle and the big smile that characterize our simplest drawings of the sun—like those yellow
badges with the words, “Have a nice day!” [4]
丼丿乂乃
Used as a primitive, this kanji can mean sun or day or a tongue wagging in the mouth. This latter meaning,
incidentally, derives from an old character outside the standard list meaning something like “sayeth” and written
almost exactly the same, except that the stroke in the middle does not touch the right side (⽈, FRAME 620).
13 month
⽉ This character is actually a picture of the moon, with the two horizontal lines representing the left eye and mouth of the
mythical “man in the moon.” (Actually, the Japanese see a hare in the moon, but it is a little farfetched to find one in the
kanji.) And one month, of course, is one cycle of the moon. [4]
久之乍乎
As a primitive element, this character can take on the sense of moon, flesh, or part of the body. The reasons for
the latter two meanings will be explained in a later chapter.
14 rice field
⽥ Another pictograph, this kanji looks like a bird’s-eye view of a rice field divided into four plots. Be careful when
writing this character to get the order of the strokes correct. You will find that it follows perfectly the principle stated in
FRAME 4. [5]
乏乕乖乗乘
When used as a primitive element, the meaning of rice field is most common, but now and again it will take the
meaning of brains from the fact that it looks a bit like that tangle of gray matter nestled under our skulls.
15 eye
⽬ Here again, if we round out the corners of this kanji and curve the middle strokes upwards and downwards respectively,
we get something resembling an eye. [5]
乙九乞也乢
As a primitive, the kanji keeps its sense of eye, or to be more specific, an eyeball. When placed in the
surroundings of a complex kanji, the primitive will sometimes be turned on its side like this: ⺫.
Although only 9 of the 15 kanji treated in this lesson are formally listed as primitives—the
elements that join together to make up other kanji—some of the others may also take on
that function from time to time, only not with enough frequency to merit learning them as
separate primitive elements and attaching special meanings to them. In other words,
whenever one of the kanji already learned is used in another kanji, it will retain its key-
word meaning unless we have assigned it a special primitive meaning.
Lesson 2
In this lesson we learn what a “primitive element” is by using the first 15 characters as
pieces that can be fitted together to form new kanji—19 of them to be exact. Whenever the
primitive meaning differs from the key-word meaning, you may want to go back to the
original frame to refresh your memory. From now on, though, you should learn both the
key word and the primitive meaning of new kanji as they appear. An Index of primitive
elements has been added at the end of the book.
16 old
古 The primitive elements that compose this character are ten and mouth, but you may find it easier to remember it as a
pictograph of a tombstone with a cross on top. Just think back to one of those graveyards you have visited, or better
still, used to play in as a child, with old inscriptions on the tombstones.
This departure from the primitive elements in favor of a pictograph will take place now and again at these early
stages, and almost never after that. So you need not worry about cluttering up your memory with too many character
“drawings.” [5]
亂亅了予争
Used as a primitive element, this kanji keeps its key-word sense of old, but care should be taken to make that
abstract notion as graphic as possible.
17 I
吾 There are a number of kanji for the word I, but the others tend to be more specific than this one. The key word here
should be taken in the general psychological sense of the “perceiving subject.” Now the one place in our bodies that all
five senses are concentrated in is the head, which has no less than five mouths: 2 nostrils, 2 ears, and 1 mouth. Hence,
five mouths = I. [7]
亊事二于云互五
18 risk
冒 Remember when you were young and your mother told you never to look directly into the sun for fear you might burn
out your eyes? Probably you were foolish enough to risk a quick glance once or twice; but just as probably, you passed
that bit of folk wisdom on to someone else as you grew older. Here, too, the kanji that has a sun above and an eye right
below looking up at it has the meaning of risk (see FRAME 12). [9]
井亘亙些亡
19 companion
朋 The first companion that God made, as the Bible story goes, was Eve. Upon seeing her, Adam exclaimed, “Flesh of
my flesh!” And that is precisely what this kanji says in so many strokes. [8]
亢交亥亦亭
20 bright
明 Among nature’s bright lights, there are two that the biblical myth has God set in the sky: the sun to rule over the day
and the moon to rule the night. Each of them has come to represent one of the common connotations of this key word:
the sun, the bright insight of the clear thinker, and the moon, the bright intuition of the poet and the seer (see FRAME
13). [8]
亶仂
21 chant
唱 This one is easy! You have one mouth making no noise (the choirmaster) and two mouths with wagging tongues (the
minimum for a chorus). So think of the key word, chant, as monastery singing and the kanji is yours forever (see
FRAME 11). [11]
仇从他
22 sparkle
晶 What else can the word sparkle suggest if not a diamond? And if you’ve ever held a diamond up to the light, you will
have noticed how every facet of it becomes like a miniature sun. This kanji is a picture of a tiny sun in three places
(that is, “everywhere”), to give the sense of something that sparkles on all sides. Just like a diamond. In writing the
primitive elements three times, note again how the rule for writing given in FRAME 4 holds true not only for the strokes
in each individual element but also for the disposition of the elements in the character as a whole. [12]
仝代仮
23 goods
品 As in the character for sparkle, the triplication of a single element in this character indicates “everywhere” or “heaps
of.” When we think of goods in modern industrial society, we think of what has been mass-produced—that is to say,
produced for the “masses” of open mouths waiting like fledglings in a nest to “consume” whatever comes their way. [9]
件仼伃
24 spine
呂 This character is rather like a picture of two of the vertebrae in the spine linked by a single stroke. [7]
伉伊伍伎伏伐休
25 prosperous
昌 What we mentioned in the previous two frames about 3 of something meaning “everywhere” or “heaps of” was not
meant to be taken lightly. In this kanji we see two suns, one atop the other, which, if we are not careful, is easily
confused in memory with the three suns of sparkle. Focus on the number this way: since we speak of prosperous times
as sunny, what could be more prosperous than a sky with two suns in it? Just be sure to actually SEE them there. [8]
伯伸
26 early
早 This kanji is actually a picture of the first flower of the day, which we shall, in defiance of botanical science, call the
sun-flower, since it begins with the element for sun and is held up on a stem with leaves (the pictographic
representation of the final two strokes). This time, however, we shall ignore the pictograph and imagine sunflowers
with needles for stems, which can be plucked and used to darn your socks.
The sense of early is easily remembered if one thinks of the sunflower as the early riser in the garden, because the
sun, showing favoritism towards its namesake, shines on it before all the others (see FRAME 10). [6]
伽佃但
As a primitive element, this kanji takes the meaning of sun-flower, which was used to make the abstract key
word early more graphic.
27 rising sun
旭 This character is a sort of nickname for the Japanese flag with its well-known emblem of the rising sun. If you can
picture two seams running down that great red sun, and then imagine it sitting on a baseball bat for a flagpole, you
have a slightly irreverent—but not altogether inaccurate—picture of how the sport has caught on in the Land of the
Rising Sun. [6]
佇位低住佐佑
28 generation
世 We generally consider one generation as a period of thirty (or ten plus ten plus ten) years. If you look at this kanji in
its completed form—not in its stroke order—you will see three tens. When writing it, think of the lower horizontal
lines as “addition” lines written under numbers to add them up. Thus: ten “plus” ten “plus” ten = thirty. Actually, it’s a
lot easier doing it with a pencil than reading it in a book. [5]
体何佖佗余
29 stomach
胃 You will need to refer back to FRAMES 13 and 14 here for the special meaning of the two primitive elements that make
up this character: flesh (part of the body) and brain. What the kanji says, if you look at it, is that the part of the body
that keeps the brain in working order is the stomach. To keep the elements in proper order, when you write this kanji
think of the brain as being “held up” by the flesh. [9]
佞佳
30 nightbreak
旦 While we normally refer to the start of the day as “daybreak,” Japanese commonly refers to it as the “opening up of
night” into day. Hence the choice of this rather odd key word, nightbreak. The single stroke at the bottom represents
the floor (have a peek again at FRAME 1) or the horizon over which the sun is poking its head. [5]
佼使
31 gall bladder
胆 The pieces in this character should be easily recognizable: on the left, the element for part of the body, and on the right,
the character for nightbreak, which we have just met. What all of this has to do with the gall bladder is not
immediately clear. But all we need to do is give a slight twist to the traditional biblical advice about not letting the sun
set on your anger (which ancient medicine associated with the choler or bile that the gall bladder is supposed to filter
out), and change it to “not letting the night break on your anger” (or your gall)—and the work of remembering the
kanji is done. And the improvement is not a bad piece of advice in its own right, since anger, like so many other things,
can often be calmed by letting the sun set on it and then “sleeping it off.” [9]
侊侒
32 span
亘 “Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset…” goes the song of the Fiddler on the Roof. You can almost see the journey of the sun
as it moves from one horizon (the floor) to its noonday heights in the sky overhead (ceiling) and then disappears over
the other horizon—day after day, marking the span of our lives. [6]
侔供依
We end this lesson with two final pictographic characters that happen to be among the
easiest to recognize for their form, but among the most difficult to write. We introduce
them here to run an early test on whether or not you have been paying close attention to
the stroke order of the kanji you have been learning.
33 concave
凹 You couldn’t have asked for a better key word for this kanji! Just have a look at it: a perfect image of a concave lens
(remembering, of course, that the kanji square off rounded things), complete with its own little “cave.” Now all you
have to do is learn how to write it. [5]
侠価侫侭侮
34 convex
凸 Maybe this helps you see how the Japanese have no trouble keeping convex distinct from concave. Note the odd
feeling of the third stroke. If it doesn’t feel all that strange now, by the time you are done with this book, it will. There
are very few times you will have to write it. [5]
侯侵侶便係
Lesson 3
After Lesson 2, you should now have some idea of how an apparently complex and
difficult kanji can be broken down into simple elements that make remembering it a great
deal easier. After completing this lesson you should have a clearer idea of how the course
is laid out. We merely add a couple of primitive elements to the kanji we already know
and see how many new kanji we can form—in this case, 20 in all—and when we run out,
add more primitives. And so on, until there are no kanji left.
In Lesson 3 you will also be introduced to primitive elements that are not themselves
kanji but only used to construct other kanji. These are marked with a star [*] instead of a
number. There is no need to make a special effort to memorize them. The sheer frequency
with which most of them show up should make remembering them automatic.
* walking stick
⼁ This primitive element is a picture of just what it looks like: a cane or walking stick. It carries with it the connotations
of lameness and whatever else one associates with the use of a cane. Rarely—but very rarely—it will be laid on its
side. Whenever this occurs, it will ALWAYS be driven through the middle of some other primitive element. In this way,
you need not worry about confusing it with the primitive meanings of one. [1]
促
* a drop of
The meaning of this primitive is obvious from the first moment you look at it, though just what it will be a drop of will
differ from case to case. The important thing is not to think of it as something insignificant like a “drop in the bucket”
but as something so important that it can change the whole picture—like a drop of arsenic in your mother-in-law’s
coffee. [1]
俄倅
In general, it is written from right to left, but there are times when it can be slanted left to right. At other times it
can be stretched out a bit. (In cases where you have trouble remembering this, it may help to think of it as an
eyedropper dripping drops of something or other.) Examples will follow in this lesson.
35 olden times
旧 A walking stick is needed for days of olden times, since days, too, get old—at least insofar as we refer to them as the
“good old days.” The main thing here is to think of “good old days” when you hear the key word olden times. The rest
will take care of itself. [5]
俉俐
36 oneself
You can think of this kanji as a stylized pictograph of the nose, that little drop that Mother Nature set between your
⾃ eyes. The Japanese refer to themselves by pointing a finger at their nose—giving us an easy way to remember the kanji
for oneself. [6]
俑俔俗俘俚俛
37 white
⽩ The color white is a mixture of all the primary colors, both for pigments and for light, as we see when a prism breaks
up the rays of the sun. Hence, a single drop of sun spells white. [5]
保俟信俣俤
As a primitive, this character can either retain its meaning of white or take the more graphic meaning of a white
bird or dove. This latter stems from the fact that it appears at the top of the kanji for bird, which we shall get to
later (FRAME 2091).
38 hundred
百 The Japanese refer to a person’s 99th birthday as a “white year” because white is the kanji you are left with if you
subtract one from a hundred. [6]
俥修俯俳俵俶
39 in
中 The elements here are a walking stick and a mouth. Remember the trouble your mother had getting medicine in your
mouth? Chances are it crossed her mind more than once to grab something handy, like your grandfather’s walking stick,
to pry open your jaws while she performed her duty. Keep the image of getting something in from the outside, and the
otherwise abstract sense of this key word should be a lot easier than trying to spoon castor oil into a baby’s mouth. [4]
俸俺俾俿
40 thousand
千 This kanji is almost too simple to pull apart, but for the sake of practice, have a look at the eyedropper above and the
ten below. Now put the elements together by thinking of squeezing two more zeros out of an eyedropper alongside the
number ten to make it a thousand. [3]
倅倆倉
41 tongue
⾆ The primitive for mouth and the character for thousand naturally form the idea of tongue if one thinks of a thousand
mouths able to speak the same language, or as we say, “sharing a common tongue.” It is easy to see the connection
between the idiom and the kanji if you take its image literally: a single tongue being passed around from mouth to
mouth. [6]
個倍倏們倒倔
42 measuring box
升 This is the character for the little wooden box that the Japanese use for measuring things, as well as for drinking saké
out of. Simply imagine the outside as spiked with a thousand sharp needles, and the quaint little measuring box
becomes a drinker’s nightmare!
Be very careful when you write this character not to confuse it with the writing of thousand. The reason for the
difference gives us a chance to clarify another general principle of writing that supersedes the one we mentioned in
FRAME 4: WHEN A SINGLE STROKE RUNS VERTICALLY THROUGH THE MIDDLE OF A CHARACTER, IT IS WRITTEN LAST. [4]
倖候倚倞
43 rise up
昇 Our image here is made up of two primitive elements: a sun and a measuring box. Just as the sun can be seen rising up
in the morning from—where else—the Land of the Rising Sun, this kanji has the sun rising up out of a Japanese
measuring box—the “measuring box of the rising-up sun.” [8]
倣倨
44 round
丸 We speak of “round numbers,” or “rounding a number off,” meaning to add an insignificant amount to bring it to the
nearest 10. For instance, if you add just a wee bit, the tiniest drop, to nine, you end up with a round number. [3]
倩倪倫
As a primitive, this element takes the meaning of a fat man. Think of a grotesquely fat man whose paunch so
covers the plate that he is always getting hit by the pitch. Hence a round baseball player becomes a fat man.
45 measurement
⼨ This kanji actually stood for a small measurement used prior to the metric system, a bit over an inch in length, and
from there acquired the sense of measurement. In the old system, it was one-tenth of a shaku (whose kanji we shall
meet in FRAME 1151). The picture, appropriately, represents one drop of a ten (with a hook!). [3]
倬倭倶
As a primitive, we shall use this to mean glue or glued to. There is no need to devise a story to remember this,
since the primitive will appear so often you would have to struggle hard NOT to remember it.
46 elbow
肘 Instead of the familiar “grease” we usually associate with the elbow of someone hard at work, the kanji gives us a part
of the body that has been glued to its task. [7]
魴＂
47 specialty
専 Ten … rice fields … glue. That is how one would read the primitive elements of this kanji from top to bottom. Now if
we make a simple sentence out of these elements, we get: “Ten rice fields glued together.”
A specialty, of course, refers to one’s special “field” of endeavor or competence. In fact, few people remain content
with a single specialty and usually extend themselves in other fields as well. This is how we come to get the picture of
ten fields glued together to represent a specialty. [9]
倹偀偂偃偆假偈偉偏
48 Dr.
博 At the left we have the needle; at the right, the kanji for specialty, plus an extra drop at the top. Think of a Dr. who is a
specialist with a needle (an acupuncturist) and let the drop at the top represent the period at the end of Dr.
In principle we are trying to avoid this kind of device, which plays on abstract grammatical conventions; but I think
you will agree, after you have had occasion to use the right side of this kanji in forming other kanji, that the exception
is merited in this case. [12]
嘉 嘔 嘖 嘗 嘘 嘛 嘩嘯嘱 嘲 嘴 嘶
The primitive form of this kanji eliminates the needle on the left and gets the meaning of an acupuncturist.
We have already seen one example of how to form primitives from other primitives, when
we formed the nightbreak out of sun and floor (FRAME 30). Let us take two more examples
of this procedure right away, so that we can do so from now on without having to draw
any particular attention to the fact.
* divining rod
⼘ This is a picture of a divining rod, composed of a drop and a walking stick, but easy enough to remember as a
pictograph. Alternately, you can think of it as a magic wand. In either case, it should suggest images of magic or
fortune-telling.
Nowadays it is written in the stroke order given here when it appears as a primitive, but until recently the order was
often reversed (in order to instill correct habits for more stylized calligraphy). [2]
偐偕
Although it falls outside of the list of general-use kanji, this element is actually a kanji in its own right, having
virtually the same meaning as the kanji in the next frame.
49 fortune-telling
占 This is one of those kanji that is a real joy of simplicity: a divining rod with a mouth—which translate directly into
fortune-telling.
Note how the movement from top to bottom (the movement in which the kanji are written) is also the order of the
elements which make up our story and of the key word itself: first divining rod, then mouth. This will not always be
possible, but where it is, memory has almost no work at all to do. [5]
偖做停健偬
50 above
上 The two directions, above and below, are usually pointed at with the finger. But the characters do not follow that
custom, so we have to choose something else, easily remembered. The primitives show a magic wand standing above a
floor—“magically,” you might say. Anyway, go right on to the next frame, since the two belong together and are best
remembered as a unit, just as the words above and below suggest each other. [3]
偰偲側
51 below
下 Here we see our famous miraculous magic wand hanging, all on its own, below the ceiling, as you probably already
guessed would happen. In addition to giving us two new kanji, the two shapes given in this and the preceding frame
also serve to fix the use of the primitives for ceiling and floor, by drawing our attention successively to the line
standing above and below the primitive element to which it is related. [3]
偵偶偸
52 eminent
卓 The word eminent suggests a famous or well-known person. So all you need to do—given the primitives of a magic
wand and a sunflower—is to think of the world’s most eminent magician as one who uses a sunflower for a magic
wand (like a flower-child who goes around turning the world into peace and love). [8]
偽傀傅傍傑傔傘備
* mist
Here is our second example of a primitive composed of other primitives but not itself a kanji. At the bottom is the
primitive (also a kanji) for early or sunflower. At the top, a needle. Conveniently, mist falls early in the morning, like
little needles of rain, to assure that the sunflower blooms early as we have learned it should. [8]
傚催傭傲傳傴債傷
53 morning
朝 On the right we see the moon fading off into the first light of morning, and to the left, the mist that falls to give nature
a shower to prepare it for the coming heat. If you can think of the moon tilting over to spill mist on your garden, you
should have no trouble remembering which of all the elements in this story are to serve as primitives for constructing
the character. [12]
傷僉
54 derision
嘲 The bad feeling created by words spoken in derision often leaves a bad taste in the mouth of the one who speaks them,
kind of like the foul aftertaste that follows a night before of too much of the wrong stuff—or what we call morning
mouth. [15]
魵＃
Lesson 4
At the risk of going a little bit too fast, we are now going to introduce five new primitive
elements, all of which are very easy to remember, either because of their frequency or
because of their shape. But remember: there is no reason to study the primitives by
themselves. They are being presented systematically to make their learning automatic.
* animal legs
Like the four that follow it, this primitive is not a kanji in its own right, though it is said to be derived from ⼋, the
character we learned earlier for eight. It ALWAYS comes at the bottom of the primitive to which it is related. It can mean
the legs of any kind of animal: from a grizzly bear’s paws to an octopus’s tentacles to the spindle shanks of a spider.
(The one animal not allowed is our friend homo sapiens, whose legs figure in the next frame.) Even where the term
“legs” will apply metaphorically to the legs of pieces of furniture, it is best to keep the association with animal legs.
(You may review FRAME 6 here.) [2]
乾亀
* human legs
⼉ Notice how these human legs are somewhat shapelier and more highly evolved than those of the so-called “lower
animals.” The one on the left, drawn first, is straight; while the one on the right bends gracefully and ends with a hook.
Though they are not likely to suggest the legs of any human you know, they do have something of the look of someone
out for a stroll, especially if you compare them to animal legs.
If you had any trouble with the kanji for the number four, now would be the time to return to it (FRAME 4). [2]
乱乳
* wind
⼏ This primitive gets its name from the full kanji for the wind (FRAME 563). It is called an “enclosure” because other
elements are often drawn in the middle of it, though it can also be compressed together so that there is no room for
anything in it. The main thing to remember when writing this element is that the second stroke bends OUTWARDS, like a
gust of wind blown from above. In addition to the basic meaning of wind, we shall also have occasion to use the image
of a weather vane. The derivation is obvious. [2]
僑僕
* bound up
⼓ Like wind, the element meaning bound up is also an enclosure that can wrap itself around other elements or be
compressed when there is nothing to enclose. When this latter happens—usually because there is not enough room—
and it is set on top, the little hook at the end is dropped off, like this: 聴.
The sense of bound up is that of being “tied and gagged” or wrapped up tightly. If you have trouble remembering
when it serves as an enclosure (with the hook) and when not (without the hook), you might think of the former as a
chain and the latter as a rope. [2]
僖僘
* horns
僞 This primitive element ALWAYS appears at the top of the element to which it is related, and is always attached, or almost
attached, to the first horizontal line to come under it. The horns can never simply be left hanging in the air. When there
is no line available, an extra horizontal stroke (like a one) is added. The final kanji of this lesson gives an example.
The meaning of this element is wide enough to embrace the horns of bulls, rams, billy goats, and moose, but not the
family of musical instruments. As with other elements with such “open” meanings, it is best to settle on one that you
find most vivid and stick with that image consistently. [2]
僚僞
55 only
只 When we run across abstract key words like this one, the best way to get an image it to recall some common but
suggestive phrase in which the word appears. For instance, we can think of the expression “it’s the only one of its
kind.” Then we imagine a barker at a side-show advertising some strange pac-man like creature he has inside his tent,
with only a gigantic mouth and two wee animal legs. [5]
僣僥僧僭僮
56 shellfish
⾙ To remember the primitive elements that make up this kanji, an eye and animal legs, you might be tempted to think of it
as a pictograph of a shellfish with its ridged shell at the top and two little legs sticking out of the bottom. But that might
not help you recall later just how many ridges to put on the shell. Better to imagine a freakish shellfish with a single,
gigantic eye roaming the beaches on its slender little legs, scaring the wits out of the sunbathers. [7]
僴僵價僻儀儁儂
When used as a primitive, in addition to shells, the meanings oyster and clam will often come in handy.
57 pop song
唄 There is a lot of money to be made if one’s songs are “popular.” This is depicted here as a stream of clams spewing out
of the mouth of someone performing a pop song. [10]
鮃＂
58 upright
貞 Now take the last primitive, the shellfish, and set a magic wand over it, and you have the kanji for upright. After all,
the clam and the oyster are incapable of walking upright. It would take a magician with his wand to pull off such a feat
—which is precisely what we have in this kanji. [9]
儉償
59 employee
員 How do we get a mouth over a shellfish to mean an employee? Simple. Just remember the advice new employees get
about keeping their mouths shut and doing their job, and then make that more graphic by picturing an office building
full of white-collar workers scurrying around with clams pinched to their mouths. [10]
儲允
60 post a bill
貼 The key word in this frame has do with posting bills to a billboard. In this case, the billboard is standing at the exit to a
Chinese restaurant displaying the latest alternative to the traditional fortune-telling cookies. Look closely and you will
see rows of leftover shells of clams with little slips of paper sticking out of them posted to the billboard.[12]
鮏＄
61 see
⾒ The elements that compose the character for see are the eye firmly fixed to a pair of human legs. Surely, somewhere in
your experience, there is a vivid image just waiting to be dragged up to help you remember this character…. [7]
元兄充兆兇先光
62 newborn babe
児 The top part of the kanji in this frame, you will remember, is the character for olden times, those days so old they
needed a walking stick to get around. Western mythical imagination has old “Father Time” leaning on his sickle with a
newborn babe crawling around his legs, the idea being that the circle of birth-and-death goes on.
This is the first of three times that the kanji for olden times will appear in this book as a primitive element in another
kanji, so try to make the most of it. [7]
兊兎児兒
63 beginning
元 “In the beginning…” starts that marvelous shelf of books we call the Bible. It talks about how all things were made,
and tells us that when the Creator came to humanity she made two of them, man and woman. While we presume she
made two of every other animal as well, we are not told as much. Hence we need only two and a pair of human legs
come to the kanji that means beginning. [4]
兔党兜兢
64 page
⾴ What we have to do here is turn a shellfish into a page of a book. The one at the top tells us that we only get a rather
short book, in fact a book of only one page.
Imagine a title printed on the shell of an oyster, let us say “Pearl of Wisdom,” and then open the quaint book to its one
and only page, on which you find a single, radiant drop of wisdom, one of the masterpiece poems of nature. [9]
兤入全兩兪八公六兮
As a primitive, this kanji takes the unrelated meaning of a head (preferably one detached from its body), derived
from the character for head (FRAME 1549).
65 stubborn
頑 This character refers to the blockheaded, persistent stubbornness of one who sticks to an idea or a plan just the way it
was at the beginning, without letting anything that comes up along the way alter things in the least. The explanation
makes “sense,” but is hard to remember because the word “beginning” is too abstract. Back up to the image we used
two frames ago—Adam and Eve in their Eden—and try again: The root of all stubbornness goes back to the
beginning, with two brothers each stubbornly defending his own way of life and asking their God to bless it favorably.
Abel stuck to agriculture, Cain to animal-raising. Picture these two with their giant, swelled heads, each vying for the
favors of heaven, a stubborn grimace on their faces. No wonder something unfortunate happened! [13]
具册
66 mediocre
凡 While we refer to something insignificant as a “drop in the bucket,” the kanji for mediocre suggests the image of a
“drop in the wind.” [3]
墮墲墳
67 defeat
負 Above we have the condensed form of bound up, and below the familiar shellfish. Now imagine two oysters engaged in
shell-to-shell combat, the one who is defeated being bound and gagged with seaweed, the victor towering
triumphantly over it. The bound shellfish thus becomes the symbol for defeat. [9]
冏冗
68 ten thousand
万 Japanese counts higher numbers in units of ten thousand, unlike the West, which advances according to units of one
thousand. (Thus, for instance, 40,000 would be read “four ten-thousands” by a Japanese.) Given that the comma is
used in larger numbers to bind up a numerical unit of one thousand, the elements for one and bound up naturally come
to form ten thousand.
The order of strokes here needs special attention, both because it falls outside the general principles we have learned
already, and because it involves writing the element for bound up in an order opposite to the one we learned. If it is any
consolation, this happens every time these three strokes come together. [3]
写冝冠
69 phrase
句 By combining the two primitives bound up and mouth, it is easy to see how this character can get the meaning of a
phrase. After all, a phrase is nothing more than a number of words bound up tightly and neatly so that they will fit in
your mouth. [5]
冢冤冥冦冨
70 texture
肌 Ever notice how the texture of your face and hands is affected by the wind? A day’s skiing or sailing makes them
rough and dry, and in need of a good soft cream to soothe the burn. So whenever a part of the body gets exposed to the
wind, its texture is affected. (If it is any help, the Latin word hiding inside texture connotes how something is “to the
touch.”) [6]
冷冾
71 decameron
旬 There simply is not a good phrase in English for the block of ten days which this character represents. So we resurrect
the classical phrase, decameron, whose connotations the tales of Boccaccio have done much to enrich. Actually, it
refers to a journey of ten days taken by a band of people—that is, a group of people bound together for the days of the
decameron. [6]
凅凌
72 ladle
勺 If you want to bind up drops of anything—water, soup, lemonade—you use something to scoop these drops up, which
is what we call a ladle. See the last drop left inside the ladle? [3]
働像
73 bull’s eye
的 The elements white bird and ladle easily suggest the image of a bull’s eye if you imagine a rusty old ladle with a bull’s
eye painted on it in the form of a tiny white bird, who lets out a little “peep” every time you hit the target. [8]
凝処
74 neck
⾸ Reading this kanji from the top down, we have: horns … nose. Together they bring to mind the picture of a moose-
head hanging on the den wall, with its great horns and long nose. Now while we would speak of cutting off a moose’s
“head” to hang on the wall, the Japanese speak of cutting off its neck. It’s all a matter of how you look at it. Anyway, if
you let the word neck conjure up the image of a moose with a very l-o-n-g neck hanging over the fireplace, whose
horns you use for a coat-rack and whose nose has spigots left and right for scotch and water, you should have no
trouble with the character.
Here we get a good look at what we mentioned when we first introduced the element for horns: that they can never be
left floating free and require an extra horizontal stroke to prevent that from happening, as is the case here. [9]
凧凩凪凬凭凰凱凵凶
Lesson 5
That is about all we can do with the pieces we have accumulated so far, but as we add
each new primitive element to those we already know, the number of kanji we will be able
to form will increase by leaps and bounds.
If we were to step outside of the standard list, we would see that there are still a
handful of more characters we could make with the pieces at hand, though none of them is
very useful
While many of the stories you have learned in the previous lessons are actually more
complex than the majority you will learn in the later chapters, they are the first stories you
have learned, and for that reason are not likely to cause you much difficulty. By now,
however, you may be wondering just how to go about reviewing what you have learned.
Obviously it won’t do simply to flip through the pages you have already studied, because
the order already gives them away. One, rather outdated, method is to design for yourself a
set of flash cards that you can add to as you go through the book. Another is to take
advantage of an iPad app called “Remembering the Kanji” (produced by Mirai LLP) that
has been created especially for the purpose.
Whatever method you use, a note about reviewing. You have probably gotten yourself
into the habit of writing the character several times when memorizing it, whether you need
to or not; and then writing it MORE times for kanji that you have trouble remembering.
There is really no need to write the kanji more than once, unless you have trouble with the
stroke order and want to get a better “feel” for it. If a kanji causes you trouble, spend time
clarifying the imagery of its story. Simply rewriting the character will reinforce any latent
suspicions you still have that the “tried and true method” of learning by repeating is the
only reliable one—the very bias we are trying to uproot. Also, when you review, REVIEW
ONLY FROM THE KEY WORD TO THE KANJI, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. The reasons for this,
along with further notes on reviewing, will come later.
We are now ready to return to work, adding a few new primitives one by one, and
seeing what new characters they allow us to form. We shall cover 24 new kanji in this
lesson.
75 fish guts
⼄ The kanji shown here actually represents the “second” position in the old Chinese zodiac, which the Japanese still use
as an alternate way of enumeration, much the same way that English will revert to Roman numerals. Among its many
other meanings are “pure,” “tasteful,” “quaint,” and—get this!—fish guts. Since it is a pictograph of a fishhook, it
should not be hard to associate it with the key word. [1]
凸
We will take fishhook and hook as primitive meanings. The shape will rarely be quite the same as that of the
kanji. When it appears at the bottom of another primitive, it is straightened out, almost as if the weight of the
upper element had bent it out of shape: 肌. And when it appears to the right of another element, the short
horizontal line that gets the shape started is omitted and it is stretched out and narrowed, all for reasons of space
and aesthetics: ⺃. Examples follow.
76 riot
乱 In a riot, manners are laid aside and tempers get short, even in so courtesy-conscious a land as Japan. This kanji shows
what happens to a rioting tongue: it gets “barbed” like a fishhook, and sets to attacking the opposition, to hook them as
it were. [7]
刃刄
77 straightaway
直 Begin with the top two primitives, needle and eye. Together they represent the eye of a needle. Below them is a
fishhook that has been straightened out and its barb removed so that it can pass through the eye of the needle. [8]
分切刈刊刋刎刑刔
* tool
Although this primitive is not very common, it is useful to know, as the following examples will show. Conveniently, it
is always drawn at the very bottom of any kanji in which it figures. The first stroke, the horizontal one, is detached
from anything above it, but is necessary to distinguish tool from animal legs. The sense of the element is a carpenter’s
tool, which comes from its pictographic representation of a small table with legs (make them animal legs if you need a
more graphic image), so that any element lying on top of it will come to be viewed as a tool in the hands of a carpenter.
[3]
刕列初
78 tool
具 Here is the full kanji on which the last frame is based. If you can think of a table full of carpenter’s tools of all sorts,
each equipped with its own eye so that it can keep a watch over what you are doing with it, you won’t have trouble
later keeping the primitive and the kanji apart. [8]
刪刮到刳
79 true
真 Here again we meet the composite element, eye of the needle, which here combines with tool to give us a measure of
what is true and what is not. [10]
制刷剃削
* by one’s side
聳 This primitive has the look of ten, except that the left stroke is bent down toward the left. It indicates where your hands
(your ten fingers) fall when you let them droop: by your side.
The stroke order of this character can be reversed; but whichever stroke is written second, that stroke should be drawn
longer than the other. The difference is slight, and all but unnoticeable in printed characters, but it should be learned all
the same. [2]
剖剛･剥剩
80 craft
⼯ The pictograph of an I beam, like the kind that is used in heavy construction work on buildings and bridges, gives us
the character for craft in general. [3]
前剏剔
As a primitive element, the key word retains the meaning of craft and also takes on the related meanings of I
beam and artificial.
81 left
左 By combining the primitive and the kanji of the last two frames and reading the results, we get: by one’s side … craft.
Conveniently, the left has traditionally been considered the “sinister” side, where dark and occult crafts are cultivated.
Note how the second stroke droops over to the left and is longer than the first. [5]
剖剛剞剣剤
82 right
右 When thinking of the key word right, in order to avoid confusion with the previous frame, take advantage of the
double-meaning here, too. Imagine a little mouth hanging down by your side—like a little voice of conscience—telling
you the right thing to do. Here the second stroke should reach out to the right and be drawn slightly longer than the
first. [5]
剥剩剪副剰
83 possess
有 The picture here is of someone with a slab of flesh dangling by the side, perhaps from a belt or rope tied around the
waist. Think of it as an evil spirit in possession of one’s soul, who can be exorcized only by allowing fresh flesh to
hang by one’s side until it begins to putrefy and stink so bad that the demon departs. Take careful note of the stroke
order. [6]
剱割剳剴創剽
84 bribe
賄 To the left we have the primitive for a shellfish, and to the right the kanji we just learned for possess. Keep the
connotation of the last frame for the word possess, and now expand your image of shells to include the ancient value
they had as money (a usage that will come in very helpful later on). Now one who is possessed by shells is likely to
abandon any higher principles to acquire more and more wealth. These are the easiest ones to bribe with a few extra
shells. [13]
劑加
85 tribute
貢 A tribute has a kind of double-meaning in English: honor paid freely and money collected by coercion. Simply because
a ruler bestows a noble name on a deed is hardly any consolation to the masses who must part with their hard-earned
money. Little wonder that this ancient craft of getting money by calling it a tribute has given way to a name closer to
how it feels to those who pay it: a tax. [10]
助労
86 paragraph
項 To the right we see a head and to the left an element that means craft. When we think of a paragraph, we immediately
think of a heading device to break a text into parts. (Think of the elaborate heads often seen at the start of medieval
manuscripts and the task becomes easier still.) Just where and how to do it belongs to the writer’s craft. Hence, we
define paragraphing as the “heading craft” to remember this character. [12]
劼勒
87 sword
⼑ Although this kanji no longer looks very much like a sword, it does have some resemblance to the handle of the sword.
This is to our advantage, in that it helps us make a distinction between two primitive elements based on this kanji. [2]
動勗
In the form of the kanji, this primitive means a dagger. When it appears to the right of another element, it is
commonly stretched out like this ⺉ and takes the sense of a great and flashing saber, a meaning it gets from a
character we shall learn later (FRAME 1801).
88 blade
刃 Think of using a dagger as a razor blade, and it shouldn’t be hard to imagine cutting yourself. See the little drop of
blood clinging to the blade? [3]
勘務勛
89 cut
切 To the right we see the dagger and next to it the number seven whose primitive meaning we decided would be diced
(FRAME 7). It is hard to think of cutting anything with a knife without imagining one of those skillful Japanese chefs.
Only let us say that he has had too much to drink at a party, grabs a dagger lying on the mantelpiece and starts dicing
up everything in sight, starting with the hors d’oeuvres and going on to the furniture and the carpets…. [4]
勝勞募勠
90 seduce
召 A sword or dagger posed over a mouth is how the character for “beckoning” is written. The related but less tame key
word seduce was chosen because it seemed to fit better with the—how shall we put it?—Freudian implications of the
kanji. (Observe if you will that it is not sure whether the long slender object is seducing the small round one or vice
versa.) [5]
勣勲
The primitive meaning remains the same: seduce. Just be sure to associate it with a very concrete image.
91 shining
昭 Let the key word suggest shining one’s shoes, the purpose of which is to seduce the sun down on them for all to see.
[9]
勹匁
92 rule
則 The character depicts a clam alongside a great and flashing saber. Think of digging for clams in an area where there are
gaming rules governing how large a find has to be before you can keep it. So you take your trusty saber, which you
have carefully notched like a yardstick, crack open a clam, and then measure the poor little beastie to see if it is as long
as the rules say it has to be. [9]
匏匕
* wealth
To prepare for following frame, we introduce here a somewhat rare primitive meaning wealth. It takes its meaning
from the common image of the overwealthy as also being overfed. More specifically, the kanji shows us one single
mouth devouring all the harvest of the fields, presumably while those who labor in them go hungry. Think of the phrase
exactly as it is written when you draw the character, and the disposition of the elements is easy. [9]
化匚匤
93 vice-
副 The key word vice has the sense of someone second-in-command. The great and flashing saber to the right (its usual
location, so you need not worry about where to put it from now on) and the wealth on the left combine to create an
image of dividing one’s property to give a share to one’s vice-wealthholder. [11]
匿區十
94 separate
別 In the Old East, the samurai and his saber were never separated. They were constant companions, like the cowboy of
the Old West and his six-shooter. This character depicts what must have been the height of separation-anxiety for a
samurai: to be bound up with a rope and unable to get at his saber leaning only a few feet away from him. Look at that
mouth bellowing out for shame and sorrow!
Note the order in which the element for tied up is written—just as it had been with the character for ten thousand. [7]
卆升午半
95 street
丁 The picture here is of a street sign on a long pole: Hollywood and Vine, if you please, or any street that immediately
conjures up the image of a street sign to you. [2]
卍卑
Used as a primitive, we change the meaning of the key word and take the shape to signify a nail or a spike.
Should it happen, on reviewing, that you find the pictographs get jumbled, then think of jerking a street sign out
of the ground and using it as a nail to repair your garage roof.
96 village
町 Street signs standing at the corner of the rice fields depict the village limits. (Remember what was said earlier: when
used as a primitive, a kanji may either take its primitive meaning or revert to the original meaning of its key word.) [7]
卒卓協南単博卜
97 can
可 Remember the story about the “Little Engine that Could” when you hear this key word, and the rest is simple. See the
determined little locomotive huffing and puffing up the mountain—”I think I can, I think I can…”—spitting railroad
spikes out of its mouth as it chews up the line to the top. [5]
卞占卦卩卮
98 place on the head
頂 The key word is actually a formal metaphor meaning “humble acceptance.” Reading off the two primitive elements in
the order of their writing, we have: nail … head. As in “hitting the nail on the head.” Now one presumes that most
people can handle metaphors, but if you were to run into a dimwit working in a hardware store who only knew the
literal meaning of things, and were to ask him, in your best Japanese, to place on your head a nail, he might miss the
point and cause you considerable torment. [11]
印卿
Lesson 6
The last group of primitives took us pretty far, and probably forced you to pay more
attention to the workings of imagination. In this lesson we shall concentrate on primitives
that have to do with people.
As you were reminded in FRAME 80, even those kanji that are given special meanings
as primitives may also retain their key word meaning when used as primitives. Although
this may sound confusing, in fact it turns out to be convenient for making stories and, in
addition, helps to reinforce the original meaning of the character.
99 all
⼦ This kanji is a pictograph of a child wrapped up in one of those handy cocoons that Japanese mothers fix to their backs
to carry around young children who cannot get around by themselves. The first stroke is like a wee head popping out
for air; the second shows the body and legs all wrapped up; and the final stroke shows the arms sticking out to cling to
the mother’s neck. [3]
厂厄厓
As a primitive, the meaning of child is retained, though you might imagine a little older child, able to run around
and get into more mischief.
100 cavity
孔 Probably the one thing most children fear more than anything else is the dentist’s chair. Once a child has seen a dentist
holding the x-rays up to the light and heard that ominous word cavity, even though it is not likely to know that the
word means “hole” until it is much older, it will not be long before those two syllables get associated with the drill and
that row of shiny hooks the dentist uses to torture people who are too small to fight back. [4]
厖厘厚原
101 complete
了 Learn this character by returning to FRAME 99 and the image given there. The only difference is that the “arms” have
been left off (actually, only tucked inside). Thus a child with its arms wrapped up into the back-sack is the picture of a
job successfully completed. [2]
厠厥
102 woman
⼥ You have probably seen somewhere the form of a squatting woman drawn behind this character, with two legs at the
bottom, two arms (the horizontal line) and the head poking out the top. A little farfetched, until you draw the character
and feel the grace and flow of the three simple strokes. Remembering the kanji is easy; being able to write it beautifully
is another thing. [3]
厦厨厩
The primitive meaning is the same: woman.
103 fond
好 The phrase “to be fond of someone” has a natural gentleness about it, and lends a tenderness to the sense of touching
by giving us the related term “to fondle.” The character likens it to a woman fondling her child. [6]
厰厶
104 likeness
如 Pardon me if I revert to the venerable old Dr. Freud again, but his eye for symbolism is often helpful to appreciate
things that more earthy imaginations once accepted more freely but that we have learned to cover over with a veneer of
etiquette. For instance, the fact that things like the mouth of a cave served as natural ritual substitutes for the opening
through which a woman gives birth. Hence, in order to be reborn as an adult, one may have to pass through the
psychological equivalent of the womb, that is, something that bears a likeness to the opening of the woman from whom
you were born. [6]
參及
105 mama
⺟ Look closely at this kanji and you will find the outline of the kanji for woman in it, the second stroke of which has been
expanded to make space for the two breasts that make her a mama. Likening this sound to a baby nursing at its
mother’s breast has afforded some scholars of comparative linguistics a way to explain the presence of the same word
across a wide range of language-groups. [5]
友双反収叔
As a primitive we shall add the meaning of breasts in accord with the explanation given above. Take careful note
of the fact that the form is altered slightly when this kanji serves as a primitive, the final two dots joining
together to form a longer stroke. An example follows in the next frame.
106 pierce
貫 If one is asked to think of associations for the word pierce, among the first to come to mind is that of piercing one’s
ears to hold earrings, a quite primitive form of self-mutilation that has survived into the 21st century. The kanji here is
read, top to bottom: mama … oyster. All you need to do is imagine piercing an ear so that it can hold a mother-of-pearl
(actually, a mama-of-pearl) you have just wrested from an oyster. [11]
只召
107 elder brother
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